


Bleeding- a 221B Formatted Ficlet

by DivergentLunarShadowhunter



Series: 221B Formatted Ficlets [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Canon Compliant, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Mild Blood, Post-Season/Series 04, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, has nobody considered what sherlock would do if john actually got shot, i guess?, idk it's just random, not based off of any episode, why is there a tag for sherlock getting shot but not john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivergentLunarShadowhunter/pseuds/DivergentLunarShadowhunter
Summary: This is a 221B-formatted ficlet I thought I wrote but apparently never did (or did, then deleted). My super-sophisticated summary that I wrote in Notes before I lost the inspiration was this little A+ blurb:“John got shot and sherlock was there and freaking out bc he couldn’t let john die but then john was all like call 911 you dumbass i’m still bleeding out here”So yeah. That’s what this is. And it’s only 221 words, so it’ll only waste about 30 seconds for you to read it. So hey, check it out!





	1. Bleeding

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm still alive! No, this isn't something new I've written (but I promise I am trying to write random things here and there and hopefully post some of them). This is an old Sherlock thing that has 2 parts to it because I rewrote it and then couldn't decide which one I liked more, so why don't I just post both?

John stared into the darkness of the alley, hearing nothing but the blood pounding in his ears...and currently spilling out onto the street. He felt Sherlock fall to his knees beside him, yelling his name and tugging at his jacket, but it was muffled, like he was underwater and Sherlock was trying to pull him out.

 

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. He’d been hurt like this before, years ago, but not like this. He’d been shot in the shoulder in Afghanistan, came home with a psychosomatic limp that only went away when he met Sherlock. But he’d never felt anything like this.

 

Suddenly he realized how Sherlock must’ve felt, bleeding out from a bullet wound in the side of his torso. But he’d gotten lucky with that one- Mary had shot him there on purpose so as _not_ to kill him. With John, well...it wasn’t Mary who had shot him, but a killer, and one who usually didn’t leave his victims with a large chance for survival.

 

He realized Sherlock was muttering, then yelling at him.

 

“You can’t die, you _can’t_ , you can’t…” he was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at John.

 

“Call 999, you absolute twat.” John groaned. “You _genius_ , you realize I’m _much_ more likely to die if I’m still bleeding.”


	2. The One Where John Gets Shot (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My brain: Do I post the funny sad one? Or the sad deep one?
> 
> ...
> 
> What about both?

“What’d he look like?” John wonders as he stares into the darkness of a side alley from his position on the cold concrete.

  
“Don’t speak,” Sherlock barks. “Don’t speak, don’t look, just…don’t close your eyes!”   
  
“I know, Sherlock.” He should be more scared, more shocked, more angry, but he just feels tired and hurt. The pain hasn’t reached him yet, but it will soon.   
  
He groans as Sherlock pulls up his shirt to expose the bloody skin. Dark blood oozes steadily out of a small hole on his otherwise unmarked torso, making the detective’s head spin with the sight of it. His mind starts to unwillingly calculate the blood loss, the internal damage, the chance of survival. As the numbers run through his head, his hands search John’s back, waiting to feel an exit wound that his mind is already telling him isn’t there.    
  
The amount of blood is smaller than Sherlock had expected, but it still threatens to spin him into a panic every time he looks at it. He rips the bottom of John’s shirt away-  _ it was one of his favorites _ , he thought sadly-

 

“Hey.” A hand grips the fabric of Sherlock’s coat, shockingly strong and refusing to let go. Sherlock meets John’s eyes, terrified. 

 

“I’m not gonna die on you,” John vows, before his world goes black.


End file.
